One Time Too Many
by Kingyo
Summary: Let's just say that Tsuna is getting sent back to the past a little too many times. OneShot


A/N: Inspired by the legion of time travel fictions KHR have. Poor Tsuna... :DD (Beta-ed by gracefulsunshine as usual)

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><p><em>Time travel is interesting.<em>

No, honestly. At least that was what he had thought at first… But that was until the twenty-eight-or was it the thirty-first time? He was starting to get _really_ frustrated. Someone truly needed to confiscate Lambo's broken bazooka, plus create an additional law forbidding Gianini and Irie into experimenting with time machines or bazookas ever again.

The Vongola Decimo nodded to himself. That was what he would do when he get back…. Whenever that was. Life before this had to be as normal as it could get, at least to some degree.

So, as any normal person would do, during the sixteen times of "epic" time-travel journeys when he was getting shot at again, he sighed tiredly and rubbed his temples.

"ENEMY! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!" A man-in-black yelled to his fellow comrades. The 28-year-old brunet rolled his eyes. Couldn't they be more creative? They used that line every single time he decided to "poof" in! At least the last time he travelled and appeared in a nursery, a little girl with big, wide eyes had asked him if he was a fairy. Now _that_ was something fresh.

Ignoring the chaos he left at his wake, Sawada Tsunayoshi strolled out the apparent underground auction, dodging the frenzy of bullets and curses thrown at him with minimum movement on his part. But seriously, whatever Family those men had come from, they needed to work on their aim more…

"Left or right?" Tsuna pondered leisurely over his little dilemma when he came upon a crossroad. "Right," he decided after a pause, tucking his hands deep into his formal coat. When he arrived here last time, he had took the left road was and got lost. Not that he would admit he got lost, of course. No, no, he was just "exploring" the area….

It took Tsuna five minutes and twenty-six seconds to find out that the pathway only led to a bare room with only one window. And it took him another thirty-eight seconds to be fully surrounded by men.

A blond young man barely out of his teens stepped forward haughtily, waving his pistol at Tsuna. "BWAHAHAHAHA! Let's see where you could hide now, you bastard!"

"Young master! You are so cool! Show him what we are made of!" One of the middle-aged men cooed at the boy. Tsuna felt an eyebrow arch in amusement. What a pathetic way to kiss the brat's ass. Even a five-year-old could have done better.

But the teenager was basking the ridiculous flattery and he couldn't be really bothered to inform them that no, he was not hiding…and no, he was not a bastard. Did these people even understand the meaning of the term? He highly doubted it anyway.

Thus, the said brunet crossed his arms and lean lightly against the windowsill, waiting for the sweet-talking to end. It wasn't polite to leave without a word after all.

"How much long do they need?" He wondered idly when it finally did end and all the attention returned back to him.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" the brat demanded snottily, preening at the attention he was basked in. Tsuna blinked and calmly proceeded in giving the boy a wide smile, taking the confused teen by surprise. Without a word, the Vongola Decimo waved his goodbyes, like every polite gentleman would do, and leaned back as far as he could, vanishing out of the window.

His sensitive hearing could pick up the collective gasps from the crowd as they fought to get a better view to the spot where the mysterious man had decided jumped off from the third story. Without a clinch, he landed onto the pavement and brushed the imaginary dust off his white suit.

"Bye," Tsuna yelled at the doe-eyed audience ogling at him and made his way to an all-familiar castle located at the edge of the town before they realised that he had just escaped.

Humming a wordless tune, he headed to one of the back lanes and sneaked through one of the numerous passageways only known to bosses of Vongola and their Guardians and emerged in his own study. Well…it would be his in the future.

Near the over-sized glass panel, a blond man was furiously signing a pile of papers and muttering under his breath. Paperwork was obviously a tradition from this era, the brunet thought glumly as he eyed on the scene with a sense of déjà-vu. No matter how much one tried to finish it, it would seemingly multiply on its own when one wasn't looking, like an amoeba or some sort of bacteria.

Eventually, bored of getting ignored, Tsuna cleared his throat loudly. The unsuspecting occupant of the room noticeably jumped when realised he was not alone and warily looked up from his work.

Tsuna greeted his ancestor. "Hi, Giotto."

The Vongola Primo took one long scrutinizing look at the man before him and sighed in exasperation. "Whose fault was it again?"

His descendent gave him a meaningful look, "Reborn. Then Lambo." He threw himself unceremoniously on the red couch and slung a leg on armrest. When the blond did not reply, he threw a glare across the room. "It wasn't _my_ fault, you know."

Giotto crossed his arms. "Tell me, how many times had this been?"

His great-great-great-grandson groaned at the upcoming lecture and buried his face into the cushion. "Thirty-eight?" he lied meekly.

"Forty-six," came a voice from the doorway as Giotto's storm guardian entered, shifting a large pile of paper in his arms. "Hello to you too, Decimo."

"Hi, G…" a muffled voice returned the greetings.

Giotto gave the newcomer a horrified look. "More reports?"

"Don't look at me…" the maroon-hair man told him in a miffed tone. "Alaude was the one who sent the most of it!"

Scanning through the first page, Primo frowned. "He blew up a _toilet_?"

"Erm…I think that's mine," his shame-faced right-hand man muttered, scratching in chin, earning an incredulous look from his boss. "It was kinda of an accident…"

"How did that happen…?"

Tsuna peered at him from his cozy spot. "Isn't that normal occurrence?"

Both the men spun towards him in alarm, taken aback by the off-handed comment.

"What? Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

"Normal…?" G asked at last.

"Well, Lambo blew up a church the other day. Hibari annihilated the left wing, a school, two rooms and…" The brunet frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember the last victimized place. "I think it was the kitchen. Ryohei, Yamamoto and Gokudera obliterated the laundry room and…a chicken coop?" His ancestor stared at him mouth opening and closing it soundlessly.

Tsuna unfortunately misunderstood the look given him and added helpfully. "…and I think that was last week."

"…"

"… wow?"

The brunet looked at them a little desperately. "Isn't that the usual for you?"

The first guardian of the storm gave him a sympathetic look and patted the confused man's head. Giotto, on the other hand, drew him into a brief hug.

"Good luck…" they chorused in sync.

"Hey!"

"Do you want cake?" Giotto inquired, attempting to change the topic that was spiralling out of control. "Knuckles made a fresh batch today…"

"Cake? Really? No, wait… Don't change the topic! It's not just my guardians, righttt?" Tsuna asked the men, who were now refusing to meet his eyes.

"He makes great cakes!" G added quickly, ignoring the previous comment.

"Guys…?"

"Cakes?"

Before Tsuna could say anymore, he was enveloped in the absurd concentration of shocking pink smoke again. G and Giotto exchanged a look of relief.

G turned towards the door. "Cake?"

"Hm? Sure…"

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><p>Tsuna sat despondently at his OWN desk in his OWN time. Piles of paper innocently sat on his desk, much similar to 150 years ago. He scowled when he noticed his was ten-fold of what his ancestor owned.<p>

That was simply not fair! Why was his bigger? Plus not to mention they got _cakes_! God wasn't being fair!

As he settled to begin his work, a thought came up to him. Smiling, he started to sign away his workload. Maybe, just maybe, he would let Lambo keep the bazooka a little longer… At least till he got to eat Knuckle's cake.


End file.
